“My!” gasped Missy, regaining her balance. “He IS wild, isn't he? Do you think, maybe--”
She stopped suddenly. In front of the Post Office and staring at them was that new boy she had heard about--it must be he; hadn't Kitty Allen seen him and said he was a brunette? Even in her agitated state she could but notice that he was of an unusual appearance--striking. He somewhat resembled Archibald Chesney, one of airy fairy Lilian's suitors. Like Archibald, the stranger was tall and eminently gloomy in appearance. His hair was of a rare blackness; his eyes were dark--a little indolent, a good deal passionate--smouldering eyes! His eyebrows were arched, which gave him an air of melancholy protest against the world in general. His nose was of the high-and-mighty order that comes under the denomination of aquiline, or hooked, as may suit you best. However he did not shade his well-cut mouth with a heavy, drooping moustache as did Archibald, for which variation Missy was intensely grateful. Despite Lilian's evident taste for moustached gentlemen, Missy didn't admire these “hirsute adornments.”
She made all these detailed observations in the second before blond Raymond Bonner, handsomer but less interesting-looking than the stranger, came out of the Post Office, crying:
“Hello, girls! What's up?--joined the circus?”
This bantering tone, these words, were disconcerting. And before, during their relentless progress down Maple Avenue, the expressions of certain people sitting out on front porches or walking along the street, had occasioned uncertainty as to their unshadowed empressement. Still no doubts concerning her own personal get-up had clouded Missy's mind. And the dark Stranger was certainly regarding her with a look of interest in his indolent eyes. Almost you might say he was staring. It must be admiration of her toilette. She was glad she was looking so well--she wished he might hear the frou-frou of her silken skirt when she walked!
The consciousness of her unusually attractive appearance made Missy's blood race intoxicatingly. It made her feel unwontedly daring. She did an unwontedly daring thing. She summoned her courage and returned the Strange Boy's stare--full. But she was embarrassed when she found herself looking away suddenly--blushing. Why couldn't she hold that gaze?--why must she blush? Had he noticed her lack of savoir-faire? More diffidently she peeped at him again to see whether he had. It seemed to her that his expression had altered. It was a subtle change; but, somehow, it made her blush again. And turn her eyes away again--more quickly than before. But there was a singing in her brain. The dark, interesting-looking Stranger LIKED her to look at him--LIKED her to blush and look away!